


Skirting the Issue

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-26
Updated: 2005-12-26
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: A truth or dare game goes a bit sideways, and Ron thinks he's helping





	Skirting the Issue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: _Originally written for the Genderfuck challenge at Pornish Pixies (http://www.livejournal.com/community/pornish_pixies). Mmm, skirtfic._  


* * *

"Truth or dare, Harry?"  
  
Harry looked up from the chess board, quickly shooting Hermione a worried glance before focussing his attention on Seamus. The other boy loomed over him, grinning widely and swaying, eyes a little too bright due to the alcohol everyone else had been consuming for, oh, the last two hours (give or take fifteen minutes). "Seamus," he said slowly, as though he were addressing a five-year-old, "I know you're rather drunk, but the game is happening on the _other_ side of the room. I'm not playing." Hermione let out a quiet snort of amusement as she moved one of her pawns.  
  
Seamus wasn't appeased. "You're a spoilsport, that's what, Potter! The least y'can do is tie one on with us, or answer one measly question! After all, we're celebratin' in _your_ honour."  
  
Yes, the Gryffindors certainly were celebrating -- and had been for the past month, pretty much turning Hogwarts into their own personal red and gold Bacchanal. There were just a few weeks before they finished school, hormones were running at an all-time high, and yes, Harry had just defeated Voldemort. Had taken a life -- had murdered -- in order to save his own.  
  
Not that Harry hadn't done celebrating of his own; he honestly had. Even if he didn't think he'd ever be entirely comfortable with what he'd had to do, having Voldemort dead made it feel like a thousand pound weight had been lifted from his chest. It was just that he preferred to keep his celebrations private and joining in the drunken revelry of Truth or Dare didn't exactly fit that qualification.  
  
But. The rest of the room was staring at him expectantly, and even Hermione was wearing her _time-to-act-like-a-normal-person-Harry_ expression, so Harry sighed and stood, perching on the arm of the sofa nearest to Ron. "Fine, I'm in."  
  
A deafening whoop went up in the Common Room as everyone shouted at once.  
  
Seamus stumbled back over to the party side of the room shoving a cup of...something under Harry's nose, drunken grin still plastered to his ruddy face. "Let's try this again, shall we?" He sat -- all right, it was closer to falling flat on his arse -- next to Neville and took a giant swig from his own mystery cup, slurping noisily, then wiping the excess with his sleeve. "Harry, me boy! Truth or dare?"  
  
Still studying the bubbling, green concoction in his cup, Harry drew his eyebrows together and poked it experimentally, making a face that was half-surprise, half-revulsion as the drink tried to suck on his finger. _Oh-kay, not drinking that._ "What?" he asked, not looking away from the Drink O'Doom. "Oh. Uh...truth, I guess." Harry gingerly placed the drink at his feet, then glanced in Seamus's direction.  
  
 _Uh-oh._  
  
Seamus's expression was one of undoubtedly, undeniably, pure, unadulterated _evil_. "Sooooo, Mr Saviour," Harry's would-be tormenter began, enunciating every syllable, "I hear you're a pretty powerful lad. Excellent Seeker, quiet and not conceited, and not at all bad to look at." Harry felt himself flush at that. "Probably pretty popular with the ladies, at least if one pays attention to all the rumours that go flying about this castle of ours. So, one gets to wondering...how much tail is Harry Potter pulling? In other words...how many girls have you fucked?"  
  
Harry froze, feeling stupid because he _should_ have seen this coming, yet he hadn't expected a question like that at _all_. And he couldn't even lie -- couldn't simply throw some number out there and make it sound believable -- because there was a hex over the whole game preventing exactly that. He hunched over, wishing for an interruption or, better yet, that he might sink directly through the floor.  
  
Sparking a small degree of hope, Ron got defensive on his behalf. "Seamus, you're completely out of line!"  
  
"Am not!"  
  
"You are so!" Ron struggled to get up, but Harry thought he'd had nearly as much as Seamus and didn't manage to do much other than fall on his side, plastering hair across his sweaty forehead. "He wasn't expecting you to ask that..."  
  
"He said he was in! He has to answer the question!"  
  
"Don't you know how to play this _yet_ , Finnigan? Start with the _easy_ questions. You have to work up to the juicy sex stuff!"  
  
"Ron," Harry said quietly, "you're not helping."  
  
"Yeah, Ron," Seamus replied sarcastically. "He says you're not helping. Let the lad answer the question. Let's try this again...how many girls have you slept with, Harry?"  
  
Harry blushed even more deeply, then mumbled, "Zero." He bent down, hunting for the cup of Liquid Death, desperate for anything to end his embarrassment. Quickly.  
  
"Zero," Seamus repeated, sounding surprised.  
  
"You're still a _virgin_ , Harry?!" Ron cried. "Oh, that has to change _now_."  
  
Seamus nodded vigorously. "Agreed. We've got to get this boy some willing flesh. And as soon as possible, too! You can't seriously face the real world without your cock touching something other than Rosie Palm and her Five Sisters!"  
  
Harry started spluttering his indignation, his stuttered speech saved only by a voice from across the room.  
  
"My turn!" Everyone present focussed on Hermione, who'd undone the top two buttons on her blouse and was clutching a mystery drink of her own, pressing the wet condensation of the cup against her throat, as though the room had become unexpectedly warm. "Doesn't anyone want to ask _me_ a question?" she asked huskily, barely sounding like Hermione at all. "Or dare me to do... _anything_?"  
  
 _Thank you,_ Harry mouthed to her, getting his answer in the form of a quick wink.  
  
\--  
  
The game continued for a time with the participants getting more and more drunk, leading to pairings -- or, Harry noticed with some shock, _groupings_ \-- in dark corners of the room or sneaking up the stairs (mostly toward the boys dormitories, not wanting to trip the charms). With fewer players to harass, that left more of the attention on _him_. Not liking the odds in this situation, he quietly stood up and attempted to sneak back to the chess board and grab his things; all of his roommates were still in the Common Room. And rather drunk. Harry had nearly concluded that this drunken debauchery wasn't for him, though he still wished he could escape to do what he _really_ wanted.  
  
He'd managed to pick up his bag and outer robe, creeping back toward the staircase. He'd nearly made it, too, when...  
  
"Harry!" called Ron from his place on the sofa, "I-sh...I got-- got a dare for you...I mean, truth or dare! It's your turn!"  
  
"Not playing, Ron!" he called over his shoulder.  
  
"No, no, it's a good one," Ron assured him. Harry waited for a moment before turning around again, shaking his head as he tried to understand why he did these things to himself. "I...I think y'need sex, so we'll get you sex...right, everbody...er, everybody?"  
  
Dean and Neville raised their glasses and cheered, though Seamus was too busy with Hermione's heretofore unseen charms to do much one way or another.  
  
"Not helping, Ron," Hermione warned liltingly, following with a flirtatious giggle. This time, only Seamus's attention stayed on her.  
  
Ron pulled himself to his feet after a lot of effort. "No, I _am_ , I swear. I think...Harry...Harry, I think--"  
  
"You said that already," Harry said impatiently.  
  
"Shush. Can't think with you talkin' over me. I think! Think you need to try to...try to...fuck the first thing in a skirt that walks in that door! I dare you t--"  
  
"GOD DAMNED BLOODY BUGGERING FUCK, I HATE YOU ALL."  
  
Every head in the Common Room swivelled toward the portrait entrance, just as a chorus of voices yelled "FIZZING WHIZBEE" a second after the lone, desperate screamer. The Fat Lady swung open, and Draco Malfoy fell through, landing squarely on his arse.  
  
"YOU'LL ALL PAY," Malfoy shouted just as the portrait closed again, standing to brush off his skirt.  
  
 _Skirt?_ Harry stared in disbelief.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione gasped, horrified.  
  
"Shit," Ron said, giving Malfoy the once-over and falling backward over the arm of the sofa. "You-- you don't have to, Harry...dare's off, dare's off!" he added hastily.  
  
"No," Harry said, sounding nearly as angry as Malfoy did. "You dared me, so I'm fucking going through with it, and I hope you all remember how much you all _helped_. Don't bother following."  
  
With that, he grabbed a very startled Malfoy around the wrist and started dragging him toward the stairs.  
  
"Harry!" called Ron's and Hermione's desperate voices after him.  
  
"Potter, what the--"  
  
"Shut up," Harry ground out tersely, pulling hard and making Malfoy-in-women's-shoes stumble after him.  
  
\--  
  
Once upstairs, Harry, still apparently drunk on adrenaline and anger, slammed the door, then Malfoy up against it, pressing the length of his body against the other boy's and crushing their lips together. He practically shoved his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, prising open his jaw, and explored every bit of it he could, licking tongue, teeth, and palate with an anguished moan, one that Malfoy instantly returned.  
  
"Your timing," Harry panted, once they parted, "is impeccable."  
  
"Of course-- mmmpllph!"  
  
Harry dove in for another kiss, one hand yanking hard on Draco's blond hair, the other wandering toward the hem of his pleated, grey skirt.  
  
Draco shoved Harry away hard, causing Harry to tumble onto Ron's bed. "Potter, I know how irresistible I am, but you usually don't _attack_ me in front of your entire house. What on earth is going on?"  
  
"A dare."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Why are you in a girl's uniform?"  
  
"Lost a bet."  
  
"Ah." Harry leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. "C'mere."  
  
"You come here," Draco said petulantly, resting prettily against the door. Honestly, he looked far too comfortable dressed like that, and Harry idly wondered if he'd done so before.  
  
The idea was highly appealing.  
  
With a growl, Harry launched himself off of the bed and toward Draco again, resuming the assault on his lips, jaw, and throat, red marks blooming on pale skin as his hands slid under Draco's skirt, uninhibited this time, skating over a thigh, then higher, finding something...lacy?  
  
Grinning, Harry stepped back and dropped to his knees, ignoring Draco's protests of "they made me!" as he disappeared under the grey pleats.  
  
"My God, Malfoy," said Harry delightedly. "They're _pink_."  
  
"They're Pansy's," Draco replied, as though that explained everything.  
  
"They're lovely. Hold your skirt up for me." Harry ducked out again, and stared up at Draco, whose face was now brilliantly pink as he crumpled the end of the skirt between his hands. Swallowing hard, Harry held Draco's gaze and ran both of his hands up Draco's legs, caressing his black patent leather-clad feet, up the kneesocks covering muscular calves, then on to trembling thighs, pushing Draco's legs slightly apart. He looked away just long enough to lick a wet trail along Draco's inner thigh, mouthing a very hard cock through the pink mesh of his knickers. Draco made a strangled noise.  
  
"Like that?" Harry murmured, knowing the answer even without the more pronounced tilt of Draco's hips or the needy groan from above.  
  
Harry hooked his thumbs into the knickers' waistband and tugged them down to Draco's knees, leaning back to admire the pretty picture Draco made. His toes were pointed inward, swathe of pink lace circling his legs, skirt lifted, cock standing at attention, crisp white Oxford rumpled with one tail pulled free, chest and face pink and sweaty, his mouth swollen and parted, pupils dilated as he watched Harry expectantly.  
  
"You look so fucking good like this," Harry stated matter-of-factly, moving forward again.  
  
"Of course I d-- _ah!_ " Draco's last word was cut short as Harry swirled his tongue around the very tip of his erection. " _God_ , Potter."  
  
Harry smiled, licking his lips and grabbing the base of Draco's cock, dragging the flat of his tongue from base to tip and, when Draco moaned, repeated the action, still peering up to watch Draco's face. He dipped his head a bit lower, mouthing tight sac as he sucked Draco's balls into his mouth, tonguing them thoroughly, then pulling back to exhale a steady stream of cool air along the sensitive skin. At that, Draco moaned so loudly that it might have been better classified as a _yowl_ , and it _definitely_ could be heard down the stairs.  
  
 _They probably think I'm killing him,_ Harry thought, pulling Draco's knickers to the floor, then grabbing hard at his arse, pulling him forward so he could suck the entire length of Draco's cock down his throat. When Draco let out another keening noise, Harry nearly shrugged. _Maybe they're right._  
  
Harry took this unexpected opportunity for privacy to review everything his post-war secret (also known as the Death Eater-who-wasn't, the traitor to the House of Malfoy, or the blond who made the most attractive squeaking noises while having his cock sucked and who had better legs than most girls) had taught him about giving head. He pulled back Draco's foreskin as far as it would go and sucked lightly on the head, pushing his tongue into the divot separating head and shaft. Swallowing the length to the root, he lightly dragged his teeth along the skin, drawing a series of mewling noises from Draco's mouth.  
  
With a soft slurping noise, he moaned around his mouthful and released Draco's cock, looking up again, still working the shaft with his hand.  
  
"You like that?"  
  
"Y--you know I...I do, P--potter." Draco inhaled sharply as Harry's thumb ran lightly over a very sensitive spot. "You've a very talented mouth...for--for a Gryffindor."  
  
Harry grinned, squeezing hard around the base as his other hand crept from Draco's arse to press behind his balls, then back further to run along his crease. "What do you like best?"  
  
"Potter."  
  
His grip around Draco's cock tightened, and his mouth fell into a straight line, his expression intense and serious. "Tell me."  
  
Draco's eyes widened, but not in surprise. Even if Harry hadn't known this would be Draco's reaction, it would be easy to interpret that look as one of overwhelming lust, and Harry got a little drunk looking at him.  
  
"Tell me, Draco." He began slowly stroking Draco again, knowing it drove him absolutely mad to be touched at such an unhurried pace.  
  
"Y--you," stuttered Draco. "Like...like it best when you're ins--inside me, pounding me, m--making me come on your...your cock."  
  
Harry's eyelids fluttered and he moaned; that voice saying _those_ words sent a spike of arousal slicing through his chest. "Next...gonna fuck you so hard you'll feel it for days."  
  
Draco's answering moan only grew louder as Harry sucked his entire prick down his throat again, swallowing over and over, faster and faster, until Draco's whimpered _Potter_ s morphed into breathier, even less controlled _Ha-harry!_ s, the fingers curled around his hem simultaneously tangling in Harry's hair, tugging insistently when Harry did something extra good, and even more insistently when Harry would intentionally stop. Finally, Draco's babbling degenerated into wordless cries and Harry's head was being held close to his groin, swallowing as much of Draco as he could, Draco's hips jerking uncontrollably, until Draco -- with a final, shouted "Harry!" -- came, trembling and pulling on his hair and spilling salty-hot liquid down Harry's throat.  
  
With a self-satisfied grin, Harry released Draco's spent cock and stood, unceremoniously flinging Draco onto Ron's bed, toeing off his shoes and shucking his shirt, trousers, and pants before pouncing on him.  
  
"Hi."  
  
Draco, still looking rather dazed, managed a tired half-smile of his own. "Hello there."  
  
Harry pushed Draco's skirt up to his waist. "How'd the Slytherins get the password to our Common Room?"  
  
"Oh, they probably tried insipid things until your portrait swung open. They already knew it when they...abducted me. I'll get them." Draco's eyes narrowed menacingly, only to go wide a moment later when Harry started thrusting against his thigh. "And-- and I suppose your precious Gryffindors know about us."  
  
"No," Harry replied. "Well, not other than now, that is."  
  
"So, why aren't any of them rushing up to rescue their saviour?"  
  
"No one wants to bother the angry boy who defeated Voldemort, I suppose. And I _was_ angry...until you fell into the Common Room, that is. Like I told you; you have impeccable timing." Harry reached between Ron's and his beds to dig through his nightstand, pulling out a half-used jar of Weasley Wizard Wheezes' EvRSlick Potion. He knelt between Draco's legs and dipped his hand inside, spreading a liberal amount on his cock. "Ron dared me to fuck the first thing in a skirt that walked through the door."  
  
As Harry prepared himself, Draco watched with an expression of feigned boredom (though Harry didn't miss the twitch in his reawakened prick) and asked, "And why would he do that?"  
  
"Because he thought I was a virgin." Harry grinned down at Draco, bending forward to lick his collarbone, flicking open the buttons on his blouse as he spread out on the bed.  
  
Draco snorted softly, a sound that morphed into a moan as Harry nipped at his throat. "And-- and where would he...he ever get that idea?"  
  
"Because on my first turn, I told everyone that I'd never slept with a girl. I mean, I've only been with--"  
  
"Boys."  
  
"You." Harry, still sucking on Draco's throat, pushed Draco's legs far apart and rubbed his erection along his cleft, thrusting not quite hard enough to push inside.  
  
Draco made a shocked noise. "I didn't--"  
  
"I know. What bet did you lose?"  
  
"They bet me that I couldn't bed you."  
  
Harry's eyes widened, and he looked up from Draco's neck, surprised. That hesitation allowed Draco to roll them over, straddling Harry's waist and reaching back to grab the base of Harry's cock without pretence, sinking down onto his erection. Harry groaned as tight, slick warmth surrounded him, not getting nearly enough leverage as Draco rocked indolently. He bent over, speaking quietly against Harry's mouth.  
  
"Truth or dare, Potter?"  
  
Harry whimpered, grabbing Draco's hips and arching off the bed. "Truth. Anything."  
  
"Do you--?"  
  
"Oh, _yes_ ," Harry moaned, making a mental note to thank Seamus later.  
  
"Me too," Draco replied in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"I know." Harry rolled them again, throwing Draco's legs over his shoulders and burying himself as far as he could. "Does that mean you're going to keep the skirt?"


End file.
